Dude, it's Beacon Hills
by Book girl fan
Summary: For whatever Teen Wolf mini-stories I come up with that I have nowhere else to put. Marked as complete, as is likely to be updated only sporadically.
1. Chapter 1

**From a Tumblr prompt.**

Stiles woke up.

Staring at the ceiling, he blearily wondered why it didn't look quite right - not unfamiliar, but still not his own trusty bedroom ceiling. A small sound coming from nearby brought the memories back.

In light of all the events of the last two years, with near constant terror and panic, Stiles had taken advantage of the recent lapse of chaos and declared a bros night at Scott's, just the two of them. They'd play games, eat junk food, and generally hang out, without any furry distractions or deadly peril. A break. It had even worked! They'd both been tense for the first hour or two, waiting for something to happen, but after that they'd gradually mellowed out, until around two in the morning Scott had fallen asleep, and Stiles had quickly followed him.

And that brought him to here, lying on the floor in Scott's bedroom, wondering why he'd woken.

The small sound came again, louder than before. Stiles rolled over, looking up at Scott in his bed. "Scott? You awake?"

Scott tossed onto his side, one arm slipping off the bed.

"Scott?" Stiles pulled himself up further.

Scott moaned, a soft, painful sound.

Stiles awkwardly patted the hand hanging off the bed. "Hey, Scotty, it's okay."

A moan came again, slightly quieter than before. Scott's hand reached out, and Stiles grabbed it with his own. Scott's tossing slackened, anchored by Stiles' grip.

Stiles sighed. "Blanket hog," he grumbled, climbing into the bed beside Scott. "You're a werewolf, why do you even need blankets?" He put one arm around Scott, bringing the other boy close. Scott's moaning tapered off, and Stiles felt Scott's body relax beside him. With this knowledge, he closed his eyes, and joined his brother in sleep.


	2. Cookie Fight

**So, this is in some post-season 2 AU where no one dies and everything is happy. Also, cookies.**

"You know," Sheriff Stilinski drawled, coming around the corner into the kitchen, "when Stiles told me about werewolves, I thought I'd have to be worried about claws and fangs, not cookie thieves."

"But Stiles-" Scott started, then hastily swallowed the rest of the cookie. Mouth no longer full, he continued, "Stiles makes the best cookies."

"He really does," Isaac agreed. He lifted a container of cookies in the air, calling out to the werewolves - and Lydia - assembled in the Stilinski kitchen, "Anyone have peanut butter? I'll trade you cinnamon for them!"

Erica clutched a tin close to her chest, pretending to snarl at Isaac. "Mine! I got there first!" She opened the tin, and the other four werewolves moved as one to sniff the air, then turned towards Erica.

Jackson growled.

Erica snarled back, flashing her eyes.

Fortunately, Stiles chose that moment to walk through the door, carrying a big bag of groceries, and immediately rushed between the two. "Hey, no, no fighting in here! I live here! I _bake_ here! And do you know how much my dad would kill me if I let werewolves tear our kitchen to pieces? Do you? Because it's a _lot_!" Stiles turned and finally noticed the Sheriff standing at the counter, raising an amused eyebrow at his son. Stiles grinned guiltily. "Uh, hi dad!"


	3. Cookies

Stiles rushed out of the house, jacket flying, nearly falling down the front steps with his flailing. "Derek! Derek, you have to help me, my dad saw it!"

Derek stopped unloading groceries to just stare at him, wearing that little half smirk which would be more irritating if the other option wasn't perpetual scowling. "I know."

Stiles drew to a halt, voice blank. "You know." Then it changed, becoming more exasperated. "Of course you know, with your creepy werewolf hearing! You probably knew he was inside the whole time!"

Derek's growing smile spoke volumes.

"You knew! You knew my dad was there the whole time and you didn't tell me! I could have- I could have kept him away, came up with an excuse, but you didn't tell me!"

Derek returned to unloading bags. "Stiles, your dad is the Sheriff. I think he's figured out you've made him birthday cookies."

 **Apparently I'm just really in a cookie kind of mood. Anyone got a recipe?**


	4. Human

"Stiles." Scott caught Stiles' wrist, stopping him from continuing into the school.

Stiles turned back, questioning. "Yeah, Scott? What's up?" He glanced around, scanning their surroundings for anything out of place or suspicious. "Has something happened?"

"That's what I was going to ask you." Scott pushed up Stiles' sleeve with his other hand, exposing purple bruises fading out to yellow at the edges. "You still smell like bruises and blood, and you have for weeks." He looked concernedly at his best friend. "Stiles, has something happened?"

Stiles stared at him, then laughed, a sarcastic edge slipping in. "Something happened? Scott, I've been smelling like bruises for weeks because I've had these bruises for weeks. That was when we had our last battle, and not everyone has werewolf healing." He lifted his shirt slightly, revealing another bruise stretching across his side, pebbled with bloody spots like road rash. "Some of us are human, so some of us take a while to heal."

At Scott's small sound of distress, his expression softened, and he released his shirt, adjusting it back to how it was. "It's alright, Scott. Humans may heal slower, but we still heal. Even if we can't have the flawless complexions of you wolves!"

Stiles started to move away, but Scott held on, using the grip he still had on Stiles' wrist. Black veins started tracing their way up his arm. "You shouldn't have to hurt just because you're human." Stiles tried to pull away, but Scott held on, still careful not to hold too tight and hurt Stiles. "Please." He looked Stiles in the eye. "Let me do this."

Stiles let him.


End file.
